


Contracts

by taylor_tut



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Stephen Strange, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, stephen strange and tony stark are friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Another fic from my tumblr: Tony comes to Stephen Strange's house in the middle of the night having a panic attack. Stephen tries to help, but Tony is difficult.





	Contracts

Strange shuffled to the door at some ridiculous time of night and opened it irritably to see Tony Stark, to his surprise, standing out on his porch in the cold rain.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he demanded, and Tony, infuriatingly, shrugged.

“Late? I don’t know, can I come in? It’s cold as balls and we both know you’re not gonna turn me away.”

Stephen sighed, remaining in the doorway mostly out of spite to challenge that insinuation. “What are you even doing here? Did you walk?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “You’re never just ‘in the neighborhood,’” he accused, “you want something.” Tony shifted from foot to foot and Stephen finally stood aside and let him through the door. “Fine,” he caved, “sit down.” 

Tony obeyed, making himself at home on the sofa. 

“Do you want some tea or something?” Strange offered, rolling his eyes at Tony’s disgusted grimace. 

“No, thanks. If I change my mind on the leaf water, I can always just go suck the rain off the grass outside.”

Strange glared. “Remind me what you’re doing here, in my house, unannounced in the middle of the night?”

But as soon as he got a good look at Tony, it became obvious. The way he was jittering his feet, the way one leg bounced and one hand wouldn’t stop trembling, the vacant, panicked look in his eyes.

“You’re having an anxiety attack,” Strange accused.

“Technically, I’m having a series of vivid flashbacks connected by an anxiety attack,” he corrected, “but that’s splitting hairs.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Is it,” he dissented. “Stark, don’t take this the wrong way, but what do you want me to do for you? I’m not a therapist.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t need that right now anyway,” he replied, “too far into the attack. Need to spot treat.”

“You’re sober.”

“And trying to stay that way, hence me reaching out to a trusted friend or loved one instead of heading down to Dirt Cheap and picking up a handle of whiskey.” 

Strange nodded. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he admitted, “but how do you expect me to spot treat this? I don’t keep a stocked pharmacy in a black bag.”

Tony met his eyes. “No,” he agreed, “but I know you have a small stock of Mary J.”

Strange’s jaw dropped. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

“If what you think I’m asking is to hotbox your apartment at 3 am, then yeah, I am.”

Stephen took a steadying breath. “I don’t know where to begin on the list of ways this violates my medical ethics oath.”

“Do no harm, bam; you’re upholding the most important rule by keeping me from drinking myself into a stupor on my lab floor.”

“There are other options, Tony.”

“Historically, there aren’t.” Tony allowed a few beats of silence before he stood up again, looking more anxious than before he’d sat down. “This was stupid,” he admitted, sounding humiliated and upset. “I shouldn’t have come. I’ll leave you alone.”

Before he was all the way out the door, Stephen grabbed his wrist and tugged him back inside. He’d known from minute one he couldn’t say no to Tony.

“I have terms,” he threatened. Tony nodded. “First, you make an appointment with a therapist tomorrow. This can’t become a habit.” 

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Harry Potter,” he agreed.

“Second,” he continued, ignoring the insult, “you get just enough to sleep; no recreational dosage. I don’t want you eating all my food.” Tony nodded again. 

“And finally,” Stephen finished, “you tell me what happened in Afghanistan.” Now, Tony flinched. “Not tonight,” Stephen disclaimed, “and not necessarily tomorrow or this weekend or this month. But some day, you talk to me about what happened. As much or as little detail as you need, as fast or as slow, as emotional or as narrative. But you’ll talk to me.”

Tony didn’t agree to contracts he didn’t plan on upholding. It wasn’t good for business and it wasn’t good for relationships, and he knew a deal he couldn’t agree to when he saw one.

“Sorry to bother you,” he repeated, giving a fake-okay smile and a friendly shoulder pat. “I’m feeling better, though—I think I just needed a distraction. I think I can actually sleep now,” he said, the exhausted dark circles under his eyes seeming to grow in front of him like pinnochio’s nose, “so I’m just going to head home. Thanks for the chat. Have a good one.” Before Stephen could stop him, he’d already closed the door gently behind, leaving him alone in his apartment with the sound of rain and a sudden vicarious loneliness.


End file.
